


catch a falling star

by zipadeea



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Trauma, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Identity Reveal, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Kidnapping, Kinda, Loss of Parent(s), Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, my OC's are kind I swear, or any disney princess really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22985257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zipadeea/pseuds/zipadeea
Summary: "'Learn the system, network, really get to know our family here at Wayne Enterprises,' the cheerful HR rep had told her the first day.Family, all the signs and onboarding pamphlets continuously repeat. At Wayne Enterprises, we’re a family."***When she was just two years old, Helena Wayne disappeared off the face of the earth.Seven years later, Tim's facial recognition algorithms find a picture matching Helena's age progression photos on Junior Associate Alex Grogan's desk in the Wayne Enterprises Finance Department.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Helena Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 23
Kudos: 78





	1. catch a falling star

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhh I have no idea where this came from, and now i'm just posting this because i wrote the thing and i don't want it to go to waste. If you're interested in more, let me know and i'll give it. probably from Tim's POV next, but idk. Anyway, hope you have a great day!!

Alex is half asleep, still sipping her first coffee of the morning when the calendar invite arrives in her inbox. 

_AXMG/RBW meeting_

_L33 R100_

_11:30a-12:00p_

Alex rolls her eyes a bit as she accepts the invitation. Her first few months in the Finance Department at Wayne Enterprises have been peppered with ‘getting to know you’ meetings with various managers in the department in the midst of her job training. 

“Learn the system, network, really get to know our family here at Wayne Enterprises,” the cheerful HR rep had told her the first day. 

_Family_ , all the signs and onboarding pamphlets continuously repeat. _At Wayne Enterprises, we’re a family_. 

“Hey, Linda?” Alex asks, standing up and looking over her cube wall at her neighbor to the right. “Who’s RBW?” 

Linda doesn’t look up from her computer screen. “Why do you ask?” 

Alex rolls her eyes. If Wayne Enterprises really is a family, Linda must be her annoying aunt. “I just got an invite for a meeting with them today at eleven-thirty.” 

Linda finally looks up from her computer. “Head-honcho, kiddo. Bruce Wayne.” 

Alex chokes on her spit. “What? Why's he want to meet with me? I’m just a junior associate.” 

Linda shrugs her shoulders and turns back to her computer. “Who knows? Maybe he thinks you have promise. Maybe he’s tired so his admin filled his schedule with easy meetings to let him take a nap. Anything’s possible with Bruce Wayne.” 

On that slightly troubling note, Alex sinks back into her office chair and returns to her spreadsheet. 

*** 

At 11:27 am, Alex finds herself in the elevator up to the C-suite. She is not alone. 

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” the young man mumbles after he bumps into her, crouching down to pick up her folders and now scuffed laptop from the floor. “I’m so sorry.” 

“No worries,” Alex says, bending down to join him in gathering her possessions. He straightens before her, offering the now scratched company laptop with a rueful grin. 

“Sorry, again. I’ll talk to IT about getting you a new one.” Alex looks up to see bright, bright blue eyes peering down at her underneath a silky black shag. 

He’s very pretty. 

“I’m Tim,” he says, sticking out his hand to shake. The cuff of his sleeve is wrinkled. Alex takes the hand and shakes. 

_Firm, but kind_ , her dad always says. _Be_ _firm, but kind, Alexandra._

“Alex Grogan,” she replies, and the elevator dings. 

“Hopefully I see you around, Alex,” Tim says with another grin. Alex can’t help but smile back. 

“Yeah, I hope so, Tim.” 

*** 

“Hello, Alexandra.” 

Contrary to Linda’s guess, Bruce Wayne is not taking a nap. He’s standing behind his desk, walking toward her, hand outstretched. In the window’s reflection, Alex can see her employee profile open on his desktop. 

Alex steps forward and shakes the proffered hand, sincerely hoping her own hand isn’t sweaty from nerves. “Alex, please, Mr. Wayne.” He smiles. 

“Then please call me Bruce.” Alex nods and takes the seat before the desk. Mr. Wayne follows suit. 

He’s a handsome man, Bruce Wayne, with clear gray eyes and a movie star’s countenance. He’s probably older than Dad, his hair is peppered with gray around the temples. But he’s fit and tall. Very, very tall. 

He’s also happily married, based on the ring on his finger and the multitude of family pictures scattered around the office. She recognizes her new friend Tim in one of the pictures, arm wrapped around his equally handsome, dark-haired brothers, and feels her face flush as she realizes she bumped into the COO of the company, Timothy Drake-Wayne. 

“You have a lovely family,” she exclaims, for lack of a better thing to say, as the silence grows slightly uncomfortable. Mr. Wayne is just staring at her, studying her features like he’ll be quizzed on them in a few hours. 

Then, she winces as she notices the picture of a happy toddler closest to the computer, surely in Mr. Wayne’s line of sight most throughout the day. A sweet baby with dark curly hair and pretty blue eyes, smiling up at the camera. 

Helena Wayne. The 21st century’s Lindbergh baby. 

“Thank you.” Mr. Wayne says quietly, a sad smile on his face as he, too, stares at the baby picture. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand you have a rather large family yourself, Alex.” 

Choosing not to wonder how exactly billionaire Bruce Wayne knows anything about her family life, Alex responds, “Yes, I’m the oldest of four. All girls.” 

“Your mother must have loved that.” 

Loved. Not love. He knows that Mom died, too. 

Wayne Enterprises must have the Batman himself doing their employee background checks. 

“Yeah, she did. Dad likes it too, though. He’s raising us to take on the patriarchy.” She bites her lip after the statement, unsure how the joke will land with a wealthy white man, but Bruce Wayne grins widely and lets out a chuckle. 

“Good. That’s actually a great segue into the purpose of this meeting today,” Mr. Wayne leans forward, hands clasped under his chin. “We need more women in leadership here at Wayne Enterprises, Alex. And we’re interested in putting you on the fast-track for such positions within the company.” 

*** 

“I dunno, Dad. He said they’d been watching me since the beginning, liked my background and my work ethic. He said maybe they’ll send me for an executive MBA at Princeton next year.” 

_“That’s fantastic, honey.”_ Dad says over the phone. Alex is sitting on the side of a fountain, in the square outside Wayne Tower, her sandwich growing soggy in her hands. _“I’m so proud of you.”_

“It just seems so fast. I’ve only been working here a few months. How can they know--,” 

_“Don’t question it, kiddo. They see something great in you. Don’t ever question it, grow into it. You’re what they’re looking for.”_

“Thanks, Dad,” Alex says softly, heart warming at the words. Dad always knows what to say to make her feel better. “How’s everything at home?” 

_“Same as usual. Luce is doing her college applications. She’s dead set on NYU. I’m hoping she’ll consider something a little closer to home. Rachel’s getting faster every week. She almost won the race last week, came so, so close. I think she’ll get ‘em next time. Gracie’s Gracie, you know that. She’s too smart for her own good. Did you get the school picture we sent?”_

“It’s up on my desk at work, Dad. Framed and everything. Glad the third grade’s treating her well.” 

_“Good, good. We miss you here, Al. But you’re doing big things, and we’re all proud of you. Get back to work!”_

Alex smirks. “Yeah, Dad. Talk to you soon. Love you.” 

_“Love you most. Bye-bye, kiddo.”_

*** 

When Alex reaches her cube the next morning, there’s a brand-new laptop sitting at her desk, the latest model, with a pretty red bow on top. 

_Sorry about the spill. Can I make it up to you at dinner tonight?_

_-Tim_

Underneath is a phone number. 

Alex waits five minutes before she calls. 

*** 

Dinner that night is...surprisingly fun. They drink too much wine, each too much food, and end up talking for hours. 

“Another bottle?” Tim asks, eyebrow quirking up, “C’mon, it’s Friday, let’s get another bottle.” 

They get another bottle. 

“So, three sisters? I barely survived three brothers and we weren’t even all home together at the same time. That must have been a wild childhood.” 

“They were long fights for the bathroom in the mornings,” she says, and Tim guffaws. “They’re great though. My sisters are honestly my best friends.” 

Tim looks side to side conspiratorially, before smirking at her knowingly. “You have a favorite?” 

Alex chokes on her wine. “Do you?” 

“Yep. Dick is my favorite brother.” She nearly spits out her wine. 

“You can’t that say that! Especially to a complete stranger, that’s awful.” 

“But do you?” 

Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the company. Maybe it’s Tim’s smile. 

It’s probably the wine. 

“Grace,” Alex spits out, before covering her mouth and shaking her head. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I told you that, I take it back, I love them all the same, they’re all my favorites, I’m the diplomatic oldest sister--,” 

“You have a favorite! You have a favorite!” Tim sing-songs, refilling her wine glass for the umpteenth time. 

“She’s like, like my baby, too, y’know?” Alex finally concedes as she blushes. “I was fourteen when we adopted her. It’s kind of a crazy story, really. Mom found her on the steps of our church after saying a rosary, sitting in a cardboard box. This pretty little baby with black hair and glowing green eyes, screaming her lungs out and burning with fever. Mom said it was a sign from God. Lucy calls her our Harry Potter. 

“I mean,” Alex backtracks, “We’re not the Dursleys. Like, at all. We’re awesome. And she’s the fucking best, she my favorite sister, I already told you.” She may be a bit drunk. “Our little genius. And this crazy good gymnast, she’s the most talented eight-year-old I’ve ever met. It’s nuts. And she so sweet, she gives you a hug and you just wanna hold her forever and ever. I love her, can’t imagine our family without her, really.” 

Tim has tears in his eyes. “That’s really—sorry,” Tim sniffs, wipes his cheek. “Sorry, that just makes me really happy. Family doesn’t have to be blood. Family is family.” He rambles, tears still in his eyes. He might be a bit drunk, too. 

“Family is family,” Alex agrees, raising her glass and remembering Tim himself is adopted. 

Tim clinks glasses with her and smiles. 

*** 

_“When are you coming home?”_ Grace asks. Alex doesn’t feel bad rolling her eyes, as her sister can’t see her, lying in bed still, nursing her raging hangover from her date with Tim the night before. 

“I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. My tickets are already booked. I’ll be home at Christmas, too. You’ll see me so much you’ll be sick of me.” 

Grace buzzes her lips. _“Nope. Not possible. I miss you too much. You need to come home sooner. The coffee shop is hiring, you should just go work there and live at home again.”_

“Grace--,” 

_“Please?”_ Grace begs. _“Please, please, please? I miss you, Al. I want you to come home. You should just come home. Or, I’ll come see you. I saw a contest on TV for tickets to_ Hamilton _in Gotham, I’m_ _gonna_ _enter--,”_

“Don’t pay any money for that, Sweets, those are such scams. You won’t win.” 

_“Yes, I will. I’m very lucky. I bet if I enter, I’ll win. Then I can come see you next weekend! We all can, it’s an all-inclusive trip for four, and Rachel doesn’t have a race, so she can come, too. It’ll be great.”_

“Sweets--,” 

_“I’ll win, you’ll see. I’m lucky.”_

*** 

“So, this is Gotham,” Rachel says, slinging her arm around Alex’s shoulders. “It’s smoggier than I expected.” 

“Wake up and smell the crazies,” Lucy adds, running ahead of them to try and hail a cab. 

“Lucy--Lucy, not so far. Grace, take my hand—no, it’s non-negotiable, I am not—Grace Kathleen, you take--,” Dad grumbles behind them, until Grace finally reaches up and takes his hand. “Thank you,” he breathes out, dragging two bags behind him. 

“We sat in first class, Al, it was great! Lucy told me to get a mimosa, but then Dad said no because the bubbles are from champagne, did you know that? I didn’t know that. Do you think we’ll see Batman?” Grace rambles, and Alex smiles, grabbing her hand not already clutched tightly by Dad. 

“I haven’t yet, kiddo. But maybe, who knows, anything’s possible here.” 

“I heard, if you say ‘Batman’ three times in the mirror, he appears behind you and punches your skull in,” Lucy says, hand raised expertly for a cab like she’s done it her whole life and not spent her childhood in suburban Ohio. 

“I thought that was the Joker,” Rachel adds with a frown. 

Alex rolls her eyes. “Stop being ridiculous, that’s not true at--,” 

“Grogan family?” A young man approaches from behind, tall and skinny, dressed in a suit. His bright red hair is tucked under a professional-looking cap. He’s got a sign in his hands with ‘Grogan’ neatly printed across the middle. “Hamilton Sweepstakes winners, right? I’m here to take you to the hotel.” He points to a limo parked down the street from the terminal. 

As her sisters’ faces light up, Alex’s gut turns suspiciously. 

They’re still in Gotham, after all. 

Dad’s seems to do the same. “Do you have some identification we could see? I don’t remember this from the emails.” 

“Of course, of course!” The drive yelps, pulling some papers and a card for Dad to see. They seem to be enough for him though, for Dad smiles and leads the way to the car. 

“Where the heck did you find this contest, Grace? Limos around town, suites at the Ritz, all just to see a play?” 

“I told you, I’m lucky, Daddy.” 

Alex catches the driver grinning. 

*** 

When Tim heard about her family’s newly acquired Hamilton tickets, he offered Alex a seat of her own for the show. She’d worried for a moment that he meant some crazy box seats. She also worried he’d be accompanying her to meet her family. 

It’s not that she doesn’t like Tim. She likes him quite a lot. 

But she’s only known him two weeks. Bit early for meeting Dad. 

Luckily, her seat is right next to her family, three rows from the front, and Tim himself is nowhere in sight. 

Grace is practically vibrating her seat next to Alex as they watch the show, mouthing along with the words as the actors sing feet away from them. She’s enthralled. 

And Alex looks up, sees Dad at the end of the row, arm around Rachel’s chair as he leans back, eyes bright. Rachel’s leaning her head on his shoulder, Lucy’s in the middle, tapping her foot along. 

For a moment, the absence of Mom from this happy scene makes it hard to breathe. Tears gather in Alex’s eyes, and her throat grows tight. 

Then Grace grips her hand, and leans her head on Alex’s shoulder, and everything feels a little closer to okay again. 

*** 

“Alex!” She hears shouted behind her as her family makes their way through the theater lobby. “Alex!” She turns to see Bruce Wayne approaching them, an appropriately glamorous woman hanging on his arm, wrapped in white furs. 

“Tim told us you’d be here tonight. Thought we come catch the show ourselves, we hadn’t seen it yet,” he says with a smile, though his eyes are oddly tight. “This is my wife, Selina.” 

Alex reaches forward and takes the woman’s gloved hand. Her pearls glitter with the light from the chandelier far above them. The whole scene feels lifted from a black and white movie. 

“A pleasure, Alex. Tim has told us so much about you.” 

“Who is Tim?” Rachel pipes up behind her, jumping up to rest her chin on Alex’s shoulder. “We’ve heard nothing of this Tim character.” 

“Does Alexandra have, _le gasp_ , a boyfriend?” Lucy asks dramatically, resting the back of her hand across her forehead, making the group laugh as Alex blushes. 

“He’s a friend from work,” Alex answers. “He helped me get the seat next to you guys tonight.” 

“I hope he’s not distracting you from work,” Dad adds with mock concern, stretching his hand out to Bruce. “Mark Grogan, thanks for giving our Lex here a chance.” 

Alex rolls her eyes as Bruce laughs, and Dad moves on to shake Selina’s hand as well. 

“Introduce us to the rest, Alex darling,” Selina commands, like they’ve known each other years instead of seconds. “What a lovely family you have.” 

“This is Lucy, and Rachel,” her sisters giving ironic little waves at their names, “and--,” 

“And what’s your name, Kitten?” Selina asks, crouching down, no thought spared for her haute couture as she meets Grace’s level. 

The little hand already gripping Alex’s arm squeezes even tighter, and Grace frowns at the woman before her, a tiny wrinkle growing in her forehead. She tilts her head. 

“I’m Grace.” 

Selina sniffs, a wave of _something_ flashing through her pretty green eyes before she shakes her head and stands, smile painted on her face once again. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. How long are you in town?” 

“We fly out Sunday night,” Rachel supplies, and Selina smiles. 

“Bruce, we must have them for brunch. Won’t you join us for brunch on Sunday at our place? It’ll be grand. We’ll have someone pick you up from your hotel at eleven.” 

Bruce shrugs with an air of surprised disinterest, and smiles again without his eyes. “Yes, you really must. I’ll have Tim text Alex the details. Alfred makes the most wonderful crepes.” 

Her family immediately and enthusiastically agrees. 

Except for Grace, who continues to clutch Alex’s arm like her life depends on it, something like shock in her eyes as she stares at the Waynes. 

It’s not normal. Alex isn’t sure what exactly started the interest, but there have been too many encounters to ignore. The Waynes must want something with them. 

From them. 

Alex puts an arm around Grace’s shoulders and leads the way out of the theater. 

*** 

_Hey_

_Why won’t you respond?_

_Is everything okay?_

_Alex, what’s up?_

_Are you still coming tomorrow?_

_The car will be outside the Ritz at eleven._

_Alex???_

_Are you mad at me?_

Alex doesn’t respond to the texts from Tim. She doesn’t come up with a good enough reason to convince her family to bail on brunch in time, though. 

*** 

“Will you help me find the bathroom?” Grace whispers, leaning over in her chair toward Alex. Everyone at the table seems to hear, however. 

“I can take you--,” 

“It’s just around the--,” 

“Let me please--,” 

“Yeah, Sweets. I’m sure we’ll find it just fine, thanks,” Alex raises her voice for the last bit and the Wayne family settles around them. 

“Up the stairs, first door on the right,” the kindly Mr. Pennyworth says quietly to them, a small smile on his face. Grace grins back at him. 

“I’ll join you,” Lucy pipes up, rising from her chair and preceding them on the grand staircase. 

The bathroom is enormous, probably meant to be used to accommodate multiple people for large parties and balls, because this mansion has a _ballroom_ so that’s a thing. It’s like a goddamn fairy tale castle. 

Lucy and Alex stand in the powder room outside while Grace goes to the bathroom. 

“What the hell is going on?” Lucy asks, when Grace closes the door. “They won’t stop staring at Grace. It’s creepy. And I swear that oldest one, Dick, burst into tears when she walked through the door.” 

“I noticed, too.” 

“And what’s going on with you and Tim Drake?” 

Alex sighs, leaning back on the marble counter. “I think I got played. I think the Waynes want something. He was just using me to learn more about us.” 

“But what could they possibly want with us?” Lucy asks desperately. Alex stares pointedly at the bathroom door. 

“Their daughter was kidnapped seven years ago. She’d be about Grace’s age. Probably look a lot like her, too.” Alex remembers the baby picture on Mr. Wayne’s desk and winces. 

Green eyes. Grace has green eyes, not blue. It’s not possible... 

Lucy shakes her head, eyes wide. “Not even the Justice League could find Helena Wayne. So, what, they wanna kidnap our sister to replace their dead child? That’s ridiculous.” 

“They’re probably rich enough to get away with it.” 

“Jesus Christ, don’t say things like that. This is serious, Al.” 

“I am being serious. I think we should get out of here.” 

Lucy nods. “I’ll text Dad, tell him I don’t feel good. You get an Uber for us. I don’t want to use one of their drivers again.” 

“Yeah.” Alex agrees, and they both pull out their phones. “Once you guys get to the airport, you’re home free.” 

Lucy grips her shoulder. “What about you? Will you be okay at work?” 

“Why wouldn’t she be okay?” Grace asks, suddenly at Alex’s shoulders. Lucy and Alex both jump; the kid can move like ghost when she feels like it. 

“No reason,” Alex says quickly, pushing Grace toward the sink. “Wash your hands, we’re leaving soon.” 

“But why? I’m not finished with my crepes.” 

“I don’t feel good. Started my period,” Lucy supplies, and Grace nods her head like she understands. 

Alex’s phone pings, and she looks down. 

_Come back!!! It’s so awkward_

_Why are they being so weird about Grace_

_Is Lucy really sick????_

“C’mon, wash your hands, Grace,” Alex says sharply. 

_Started her period._ Alex texts Rachel back. _I’m calling an Uber. Meet us at the door._

“Stop trying to be Mom,” Grace mumbles, but starts washing her hands, so Alex chooses to ignore the slight. 

Alex’s phone dings again and she looks down. 

“Uber will be here in fifteen minutes.” Alex reports. Lucy rolls her eyes. 

“Fucking mansions out in the fucking boonies,” Lucy mutters, and Alex shoves her shoulder. 

“Don’t curse in front of—Grace? Where’d Grace go?” For the sink is empty, the powder roomed cleared out besides Alex and Lucy. 

Their little ghost has slipped away again. 

“Shit,” Alex bites out, running through the door, Lucy hot on her heels. “Grace. Grace!” They whisper shout together, their sister’s name echoing ominously up and down the elegant halls. Alex catches the familiar bright yellow of Grace’s sweater blitz around the top of the staircase in the corner of her eye. 

“Up, Luce,” Alex says, taking the stairs three at a time, hurtling herself up and around and around again. When she reaches the top, she sees the yellow blur of her sister darting into a room at the end of the hall. 

“Grace!” Alex says sharply, sprinting to the doorway through which Grace has disappeared. “Sweets, what the hell--,” but she stops. 

Stops talking. Stops moving. 

Stops breathing. 

The room before them is a nursery, painted a pretty, soft lavender. There’s tiny toddler cot along the wall, covered in gauzy white hangings. The bed is stacked with a zoo of stuffed animals. The walls are covered in clouds, suns, moons and rainbows, hanging around the lavender sky. Above the bed drifts twinkling lights and glow in the dark stars. There’s a large toy chest at the foot of the bed, a whole wall covered in shelves filled with children’s books. A Victorian dollhouse takes up a corner of the room. 

It’s a haven. 

It’s a tomb. 

Grace is sitting in a rocking chair under the window, a well-loved stuffed elephant in her hands. She’s rocking back and forth slowly, eyes fixated on the on the view out the window. 

Slowly, Alex approaches, and kneels down before the rocking chair, puts her hand on Grace’s knee. 

“Sweets,” she whispers, and Grace hugs the elephant tighter to her chest, eyes still out the window. It faces a large tree with a tire swing, gently swaying with the breeze outside. “Sweets, talk to me.” 

“We should _not_ be in here,” Alex hears Lucy whisper from the doorway, but she doesn’t look back, eyes on the eight-year-old before her. 

“Grace--,” 

“In my dreams, she calls me her kitten,” Grace says, voice softer than a breeze, clutching the elephant under her chin. Her green eyes are filled with tears. “And he puts me on his lap, rocks me in the chair. Hugs me like he’ll never let me go. I watch the tire swing in the wind out the window.” 

Alex lets out a shaky breath, hand surely painful on Grace’s knee. She can’t find it in her to let go. 

“This is Zitka,” Grace finally says after a long silence, meeting Alex’s eyes and dipping her chin into the soft head of the elephant. A soft sob rises from the door at the words. 

Alex turns around to find...everyone gathered there. Dick Grayson has a hand over his mouth, his chest heaving. Behind him the pack of dark-haired Wayne siblings floods into the hall, blocking any chance of escape. Dad looks like someone just told him Mom died all over again. Rachel and Lucy are holding hands, eyes wide. 

Selina Wayne looks ready to jump forward, held back only by the arms around her. And Mr. Wayne is holding back his wife, tears dripping down his cheeks. 

“Helena,” he whispers, like a promise. Like a prayer. “Helena.” 

Alex had been correct. The Waynes wanted something from them after all. 

She jumps as her phone begins to ring from her pocket. The Uber has arrived. 

Alex has a feeling it will be a long, long time before they have a chance to leave this place. The thought of her Uber cancellation fee makes inappropriate laughter rise in her throat, and Alex covers her mouth to stifle it. Something like a sob escape her instead, and Grace releases the elephant, rests one hand on top of Alex’s. 

“Al?” She asks softly, her sweet baby sister. The child Mom always said was her sign from God. Their very own Harry Potter. 

Helena Wayne. 

_Family_ , all the signs and onboarding pamphlets continuously repeated. _At Wayne Enterprises, we’re a family_. 

“Oh my God.” Alex whispers. Because her phone is still ringing, nobody else is speaking, her sister is no longer her sister and the world will never be the same. 

“Oh my God.” 


	2. put it in your pocket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this would be Tim's POV....lol yeah that didn't happen. Sorry. Anyway, hope you still enjoy, I think I know where still story is going, but honestly who knows. 
> 
> Also, sorry, it gets kind of violent. There will be blood, my apologies.

In the end, it’s Grace who gets them out. 

Alex is involved in the heated fight over lawyers and law enforcement and doctors and DNA tests, standing firmly in front of Grace in the rocking chair, when tiny hands reach forward and wrap around her leg. 

“You presume to put a price tag on my child--,” 

“She’s not yours--,” 

“She’s just as much our sister as they’re your brothers, asshole--,” 

Alex looks down, places a gentle hand on Grace’s long, dark curls. Her green eyes are full of tears, chin jutted out with the sob she’s holding back. 

“I want to go home,” Grace whispers, and the tears start to trickle down her cheek. “Al, I want to go home.” Her voice breaks. 

The room quiets at that. 

“It’s fine, we’re leaving, Sweets.” Alex turns and lifts Grace into her arms; her sister is too big for this now, too old. But she’s always been scrawny for her age, and Alex manages, as Grace wraps her legs tightly around her waist. She buries her face in Alex’s neck, and her sweater grows damp with Grace’s tears. 

“We’re leaving,” Alex announces evenly, glowering at the room. Tim is the first to step her path. 

“You can’t just _leave,_ ” he says desperately, hands held out in supplication. “How will we even find you again?” 

“I work for you, Tim. I’ve inventoried and helped value all the fun gadgets they come up with in R&D. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding us.” Her voice is ice. “I’m sure they’re the reason you found us in the first place. We’re leaving.” 

And, by some miracle, they do. 

*** 

“Stephanie?” Lucy asks, eyeing the app on Alex’s phone as they drag their bags out to the car before the gate. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Stephanie answers. She’s a pretty blonde woman, probably around Alex’s own age, driving a violently purple mini-van. “Alex? You folks headed to GIA?” Alex nods, feeling numb, and watches as Rachel and Dad help Stephanie load their bags into the back of the van. She grips Grace tighter to her and steps in the backseat. 

Her family piles in after them, Dad and Rachel taking the bucket seats while Lucy scoots her way into the third row. Stephanie eyes them in the rearview mirror and clears her throat. 

“The kid needs a seatbelt,” she says, and Alex rolls her eyes but complies, settling a despondent Grace beside her and buckling her in like she’s three again. Grace stares out the window at the mansion before them, now rolling away with the motion of the car. 

With a shaky breath, Alex leans forward to Dad. “You need to tell me everything about Grace’s adoption.” 

Lucy and Rachel lean in at the words. They all side-eye Grace, whose eyes seem glued out the window, to the forest and fields now passing them by. 

Dad covers his mouth. His brown eyes are bright, like he’s going to cry. 

Mom’s funeral had been the last time Alex remembered seeing her father cry. He’d been stoic for most of the day, calm and friendly, but distant to all the friends and family who passed through the viewing line, who attended the funeral and gave them hugs and kisses, shaking with their own shocked grief. 

Then came the burial. 

Dad had curled up in a ball and sobbed as the casket was lowered into the ground. Confused and, though she has and always will be ashamed to say it, embarrassed, Alex had hugged her sisters all the more tightly toward her and allowed Uncle Ron to pull Dad up off the ground and console him. 

She hasn’t seen him do it since. 

“Mom found Grace,” Dad finally says, voice soft. “In a cardboard box, on the steps of church. She was saying a rosary for Nick,” Dad voice chokes up at the name. “It had been two years since the day Nicky died, and there she was, our little angel--,” 

“We know this,” Alex cuts him off harshly, eyes wide. Rachel gives her a side-eye, and she shrugs. “Sorry, but we all know the story. How did you get custody? Is there any credence to the Waynes’ thinking? Could she--,” Alex trails off, throat thick with the possibilities. 

“There was a lawyer,” Dad says slowly. “Miranda Tate. A friend of Mom’s from her time teaching abroad. She helped us with everything. We were still dealing with some of Nicky's medical bills, so she did it for free.” 

“Okay.” Alex takes a deep breath. “Okay. Do you have her number? Maybe we can call this Tate woman to help us--,’ 

Dad shakes his head, and Alex swallows up a growl, a feral, possessive thing from somewhere deep inside. She slides her hand across the seat and grips Grace’s hand. 

“Jesus, Dad you have to--,” But what Alex think her dad has to do, her family will never know. Because at that moment, their driver Stephanie screeches “FUCK!” 

And headlights from forward and backward collide, and they fall and turn and twist and jump into and out of the ditch in the field beside them. 

Alex jerks forward in her seatbelt, arms splayed, holding back Lucy and Grace from any forward motion. In front of them, Dad does the same to Rachel. 

“What’s going--,” 

“HANG ON!” Stephanie shouts, suddenly gunning it through the field. Behind them, three sets of headlights take up the chase. 

“Why are they following us?!” Lucy screeches, her hand gripping Alex’s shoulder in a bruising grip. A loud pop expels in the distance, and the rear window begins to crack. 

The cars are shooting at them. 

“Oh my GOD!” Alex screams, forcing Grace and Lucy’s heads down. “Oh my God, what the fuck is going on--,” 

“B, we need backup, NOW!” Stephanie yells, holding something to her ear. “We’ve got three on our tail, black SUVs, they’re armed and--,” 

Everyone in the car flies up, like they’ve hit a speed bump, before landing harshly and crawling forward in the purple palace of death. 

“They shot out the tires!” Lucy proclaims, and Stephanie swears again, pressing her foot to the floor on the accelerator and continuing to thump along, forcing the popped tires forward. 

The black SUVs are catching up. 

“HANG ON!” Stephanie shouts, turning her wheel immediately and completely to the left. Alex rocks hard into Grace, pushing her terrified little sister further into the window as they circle through the field and race the opposite direction of the shooters. In the distance, Alex can see more lights, more vehicles approaching through the afternoon fog. 

“We’re gonna die!” Rachel shrieks, “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna--,” 

Another pop echoes through the car, and Dad rocks forward with a spurt of red. 

For Alex, it’s like watching the Zapruder film in slow-motion. Her sisters’ screams will echo through Alex’s dreams for the rest of her life. 

“DAD!” 

“ _Dad-_ -,” 

“NO!” 

Another pop reverberates through back window, finally cracking it and spraying them all with a shower of glass. She feels, as though already watching from above, herself rocking forward, caught immediately by the seatbelt around her chest. She watches Rachel’s horrified face as it’s covered by her own blood. 

And then, Alex Grogan knows no more. 

*** 

*** 

*** 

*** 

_Two weeks previous_

“Pass the syrup, Kitten. And get off your phone, we’re eating,” Damian rolls his eyes, but obliges, setting his phone face-down on the table before pushing the syrup toward his stepmother. 

“It’s ridiculously rude, darling,” Selina informs him knowingly, as she scrolls through her own text messages. Damian rolls his eyes again. 

“You’re setting a shining example,” Damian says with a scoff. Selina smirks, before rising and swatting the back of his head. 

“Don’t you sass me. Do you want coffee?” she asks, walking over to the coffee maker with her empty mug. 

“Dick says it’ll stunt my growth.” 

“I want to stunt your growth. I swear, you grew another foot last night. It’s getting ridiculous.” Damian tries and fails not to preen. He’s reached six-two per his wellness check with Dr. Thompkins last month. He’s finally taller than Richard, surpassed Drake years ago. Now, he has only Jason and Dad to catch. 

Selina comes back to the table, extra mug in tow. She sets it before him and places a kiss on the top of his head as she bends down. 

“Finish up, you still need to get ready for school.” 

“Must I go? I’m smarter than everyone there already, including the teachers.” 

“Yes, you must.” she takes her seat before him, idly pouring a liberal amount of cream in her coffee. “How are your applications going?” 

Damian shrugs. He has good grades, unique extracurriculars, and an outrageously wealthy father. He’ll get in wherever he wants for college. What Damian’s unsure of at this point, is whether or not he’s ready to leave. 

If Dad and Selina are ready to let him go. 

Selina purses her lips. “Well, you still have—Tim!” Her voice rises with the name. Damian turns around to find Drake in the doorway, looking even more like a ghost than usual. “Darling, you look half-dead. Have you been downstairs all night?” 

Tim nods numbly, and Selina stands up and pours another cup of coffee, pushing it insistently at Tim as he slumps at the breakfast bar. His eyes are dry and bloodshot, underlined by black bags. Damian watches him run both hands over his face, staring down at the tablet on the counter below him. 

Tim mumbles something unintelligible. 

“Tim, what are you--,” 

“I found her.” Tim finally looks up, reaches forward and grasps Selina’s hand. “Selina, I think I found her.” 

“Who?” 

“Helena.” 

Damian’s mug slips from his hand and shatters across the floor. 

*** 

He’d been eleven when it happened. 

It was the normalcy of the night, the complacency they felt, that killed them in the end. Because everything was going well. Father and Jason were getting along, Dick was back, Mother wasn’t bothering him anymore. Selina was kind to him in all the ways mother never had been. 

And Helena couldn’t help but light up the darkness of their lives, making them smile each and every day, no matter how bleak the nights became. 

That night, everyone besides Damian had been on patrol. It was early spring, the grey slush and snow across Gotham had finally melted, and the bats were flying across Gotham, enjoying the new freedom from winter. 

All besides Damian, who caught the flu because Father still forced him to go to school and sit around all day with unhygienic prepubescents. 

Cold and miserable, Damian had been laid low enough to accept medicine from Pennyworth that night and fall into a drugged, dreamless sleep. 

“Say goodnight to Damian,” he remembered Father whispering from the door, before the medicine had finally kicked in. He heard a brief struggle, and his sister’s angry whines. 

“Down, Daddy,” Helena had commanded, and Father had chuckled. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. Damian’s sick. How about you blow him a kiss?” 

And Damian had turned his head, eyes slit open, and watched his baby sister bring her palm up to her mouth and make a loud smacking noise before throwing her hand forward, almost walloping Father in the head. 

Nearly asleep, Damian had thrown his hand up before quickly clenching his fist, catching her kiss. Helena had giggled delightedly at the sight. 

“Night-night, Dami,” Helena had whispered. 

It was the last thing he heard before falling asleep. 

Before waking the next day to the worst of nightmares. 

For in the morning, his baby sister was gone from her bed. Gone from the house. Gone from their lives. 

Forever. 

*** 

“Say it again.” 

“We’ve been over this twice already, Bruce--,” Dick interrupts, and Dad glares at him. 

“Again, Tim.” 

Dad’s always been a masochist. 

“Yesterday at one-thirty-seven PM, facial rec alerted me to a ninety-nine percent match for Helena’s age progression photo. The program has been continuously monitoring all cameras in the greater Gotham area for the last seven years.” 

Tim clears his throat before continuing, “The match came from within Wayne Tower, on the fifteenth floor in the Finance Department, at the desk of Junior Associate Alexandra Grogan,” At this, Tim presses a button on his remote, pulling up an employee ID photo of a young woman with light brown hair and pretty hazel eyes. “Alexandra began working as an intern in our Cincinnati office two years ago, before transferring to the Gotham headquarters upon her college graduation. 

“She grew up in Loveland, Ohio, the oldest daughter of Mark and Nancy Grogan. The father is an engineer, mother was a teacher. Nancy Grogan died one year ago in a car accident. 

“The Grogans had five children, four of them biological, one of them now deceased. Alexandra is twenty-two years old. Lucy is seventeen. Rachel is fourteen. Nicholas, Rachel’s twin brother, died of leukemia when they were five. 

“The match from our program came from a framed photograph Alexandra placed on her desk yesterday afternoon.” Tim takes a deep breath before pressing the remote again, revealing the picture. 

The girl has long dark hair, littered with chaotic waves and curls, pulled back with a purple ribbon at the top of her head. She’s obviously recently lost both front teeth, and the replacements are only halfway grown. Her cheeks are dimpled with a wide smile, and freckles smatter her upturned nose. She’s wearing a blazer and blue collared shirt, the top of a uniform. The background is an odd swirling of grey and blue, standard for school photos. 

“This is a picture of Alexandra Grogan’s youngest sister. Her name is Grace Kathleen Grogan. Records show her as eight years old, currently in the third grade at St. Elizabeth's elementary school. She was adopted by the Grogans in late August two thousand thirteen after Nancy Grogan found her abandoned on the steps of their church.” 

“She has green eyes.” Damian had been thinking it already, but Stephanie’s the one who voices it, leaning back in her chair across the table from him, her eyes wary. 

“Babies’ eyes can change color, pretty much all babies have blue eyes,” Dick says with a shrug, but he doesn’t seem sold on the idea. 

“She wasn’t a baby, she was a toddler with blue eyes.” Dad’s eyes. 

“Selina has green eyes,” Tim counters, but Selina shakes her head. 

“Not like that. Hers are practically glowing, almost like...” She tilts her head, turning to look at Jason beside her, face contemplative. 

“They do look like mine,” Jason says softly, “And mine were blue, before...” he trails off, looking a bit lost. 

“So, what, we think Helena was kidnapped in March, died for an indeterminable amount of time, got put in a pit, and mysteriously showed up on a random church’s steps five months later in Ohio of all places? What’s the point? It doesn’t make any sense.” Stephanie raises an angry hand and pulls at her ponytail. 

“If this is true, and she is Helena, that would explain why Clark couldn’t track her heartbeat. She didn’t have one,” Dick’s voice cracks at the end. Selina buries her face in her hands. 

Dad, who’d been silent and stoic throughout the third run-through of the debriefing, lowers his head and runs both hands through his hair before finally speaking. “There will be time later,” he says, his voice a rasp, “To discover the why and the how. Right now, our priority is determining whether or not this child is Helena. The first step in that will be Alexandra Grogan.” 

*** 

Once they have confirmation from Oracle that the Grogans have boarded their Gotham-bound plane, Damian and Jason take off in the Batplane, their destination in Ohio locked. 

“This is wrong,” Jason whispers a few hours later after Damian has disabled the Grogans’ security system and opened the backdoor. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

Damian walks through the door and beckons Jason forward. “We’ve done things like this a hundred times before. Why are you growing a conscience now?” 

“Not the breaking in,” Jason’s shakes his head, pulling his gloves on tighter before leading the way up the stairs, through a neat living room. “This, her, finding her. This isn’t how we should do it. We’re tricking them. It’s wrong.” He stops on the steps for a moment, staring at the row of school pictures along the wall, ending with the picture that started their investigation. The child’s piercing green eyes seem to follow them all the way up the stairs. 

“What do you propose then?” Damian asks, unsure that he doesn’t agree. Having Drake woo the Grogan girl is cruel. Having Dad promise her scholarships and advancement in the company simply as an excuse to know her is even crueler. Though, at least on Dad’s end, he’ll probably follow through. 

Tim’s unlikely to dump his super-powered beau from Metropolis any time soon. 

Jason shrugs, and gently creaks wide the first door on the landing. It’s a small room, but sweet. Very, very pink, with butterflies on the wallpaper and glow in the dark stars stuck above the bed. There’s a child-sized easel and paints set up in the corner by the window, and a poster of a ridiculous boy band stuck up on the wall by the closet. A number of medals are hanging from a hook next to a shelf with a few trophies topped by gymnast statuettes mid-leap. On the nightstand, there’s a photo of Nancy Grogan surrounded by her daughters, a young, dark-haired toddler held tightly in her arms. In it, they’re all laughing. Happy. 

Jason walks up to the vanity and picks up a bright blue hairbrush, pulling out a clump of the black, curly hair and depositing it in an evidence bag. “I don’t know. But if this is a match,” Jason waves the baggy of hair in Damian’s face, “We’re going to ambush these people. And by my reckoning, all they’ve done is give Helena a happy, normal childhood. We should be thanking them. Instead, we’ll ruin their lives.” 

*** 

Jason is not wrong. 

*** 

_Present_

Alex wakes with a gasp and attempts to sit up. 

She immediately regrets it, and lets out a short, but shockingly loud cry at the ripping pain across her chest. Her vision turns black around the edges, and strong arms force her back down. 

She opens her eyes again and begins to writhe because fuck it hurts, from the middle of her chest up to her shoulder is burning, melting, tearing apart-- 

More arms join the first, holding down her legs, and Alex whips her head around, trying to see, trying to understand-- 

“Alex!” Somebody yelps desperately when she knocks her head back against the table. Even more hands come, steadying her head. Solemn gray eyes stare down at her from above, and Alex’s breath stutters. 

“Your sisters are fine, Alex,” Mr. Wayne says calmly, his warm, calloused hands gently holding either side of her head. “They’re together upstairs. You’re going to be fine. It’s alright, I promise. I promise, just breathe.” 

“Dad!” she chokes out instead, gasping at the new pain the word brings. “Where’s my dad? Where--,” Had Mr. Wayne not been so close to her, she wouldn’t have noticed. As it is, she has a front row seat to the way his gray eyes unwittingly flit left, before focusing on her again. 

So, she looks left. 

Left to the white sheet on the table, spread neatly across a what can only be a dead body. There’s blood soaking into the sheet at the head, blood pooling on the tile below. 

And Dad’s gold wedding band seems to wink at her where it rests on the unmoving, exceptionally pale hand that’s fallen off the side of the table as though to wave goodbye. 

The world fades away again as Alex screams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts. Hope you're all staying safe and healthy. Sending you hugs and hope from afar XOXOXO

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, again, idk where this came from. idk what i'm going to do with it, but let me know if you enjoyed it and want more. Or if you did it. Whatever, I enjoy feedback. Please and thanks, friends!


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